No Curtain Call
by The Barista
Summary: Blaine Anderson is a notorious thief that got caught after stealing 100 million dollars worth of uncut diamonds. This is his story. Klaine diamond heist AU.  Has a happy ending.
1. You Say You Need Someone

**Ok**, I probably shouldn't start uploading this yet, but I couldn't resist.

**THIS IS A HEADS UP. The story will be in this format for the majority of it's run. Blaine doesn't mention the actual names of the people he talks about while telling his tale, but they _will_ be written down, as it's sort of a flashback kind of thing. To avoid confusion, Blaine will give the code names before the actual flashback sequence, but in his own head, as it's written from his perspective, their real names will be revealed.**

* * *

><p><em>OHIO STATE PENITENTIARY, 11:13 AM. AUGUST 13<em>_TH__._

Carl Towns slowly walked through security, taking note of the guards and cameras at every corner. He was meeting a very special prisoner today. One would say that this could be the story of the century, the ultimate question of _how_ they'd done it.

It had been world news at the time. A group of bank robbers had managed to make off with $100 million worth of rough, uncut diamonds from one of the most high security places in the world: The Antwerp World Diamond Centre.

And Carl Towns was going to interview their front man.

The criminal had refused to make a statement to the media after he'd been caught 7 months ago while sipping a glass filled with Irish whiskey in a nice apartment in the mountains near Elviria in Spain.

The other visitors in the hall, who'd come to see their fathers, brothers, sons or friends, drowned the buzzing sound of the security door opening. Carl saw him sitting at an empty table, sipping what looked like coffee and smiling softly at the people around him.

Blaine Anderson, one of the most notorious criminals in the world.

Carl was being carefully monitored by the guard at the door, his every word clear as day to the burly man, as he sat down in the seat across from Blaine. He set down his bag on the seat next to him and extended his hand across the table.

"I'm Carl Towns from the Chicago Tribune," he spoke, a soft nervous smile on his face. "I'll be the one who writes your story."

"Blaine Anderson," He responded, extending his own hand with a charming smile. "But I'm pretty sure you already knew that." Carl grinned in response and got out the notepad he was going to use to write everything down. He hadn't been allowed to bring his laptop or phone into the room to take notes and the warden had only given him permission to speak to Blaine if he gave a copy of the things he wrote down to one of the guards before he left. Precaution, he'd been told.

"The other accomplices still haven't been tracked down."

Blaine just hummed and took another sip of his- Carl looks down at the cup- coffee and gave him an amused grin. "They'll never be caught, they are too smart for that."

"How _did_ you get traced down, exactly? I know that you got extracted from your house in Spain, but how did they know it was you?" Carl clicked his pen and sat it down on the paper, ready to write everything that followed down.

"However hard it must be to believe… I got caught thanks to a sandwich."

Carl let out a laugh in disbelief. "DNA evidence then?"

"Yeah. I was stupid and left it in the garbage can outside of where we'd hidden out. They found a tiny piece of skin, not bigger than an ant, inside the vault and connected it to the apartment and through that, traced it back to whom the DNA was from. Me." He paused for a few seconds and took another sip from the Styrofoam beverage holder.

"We were really careful cleaning the apartment and disposing of the garbage, but I guess the sandwich stuck to the bottom of the can. There was a garbage bag involved too. Now I'm here. But we'll get to that later."

Carl shifted in his seat and got into a better position to write as Blaine finished the last of his coffee and sat up in his chair.

"Much more interesting, is the journey to the diamonds." Blaine gave another charming smile, living up to his nickname in the media. Prince Charming. The air seemed to shift a bit, becoming more serious.

"Do tell."

"Hmm, I will. But-" he spoke, glancing up at the guards and eyes shifting to the cameras hanging in the corners of the room, "I will not give you my friends' real names, you understand…"

Carl nodded in compliance. "I figured as much."

"Well then," Blaine began, "It all started _13 months ago…._"

* * *

><p><em>Hoveniersstraat, Diamond Destrict, Antwerp. 12:34 PM. June 23<em>_RD__. _

_7 months before the heist._

Blaine sat at the terrace of a small coffee shop, enjoying the afternoon sun and enjoying the people buzzing back and forth in the Belgian street. There was a group of Armenians walking up to one of the many diamond points, a dark haired woman with a security guard walking out of the Antwerp Diamond Centre at the end of the street, a small steel suitcase cuffed to her wrist and conversation from inside the café.

He closed his eyes and inhaled the scent of the city, his head tilted back towards the sky. The sun burned behind his eyelids, warming them and he sighed in enjoyment. It was the little pleasures that made it worth living this criminal life. It wasn't the new Mercedes he'd bought or the apartment he'd purchased in the Alps last week. It was the sun, the smell of chocolate, the murmur of talking and laughter. Fresh coffee, sleeping in on Sundays.

A shadow cast over him and he cranked open an eye, adjusting to the light difference, as the figure leaned over. Blaine fought the urge to sit up sharply and sat up from his laid back state.

"Hey there Prince Charming," the newcomer hissed with a shark-like grin, before sitting down in the chair opposite him. Blaine looked up and sighed.

"And what will we call this newcomer?" Carl interrupted, pen pausing in writing only for a few seconds before quickly scribbling down 'Doesn't steal for the money?'and underlining it for good measure.

"Let's just call her… Ms. Gold, shall we? I know she loves her gold. She's a blonde too, it's fitting."

Carl nodded in compliance, writing down the name and shifting his eyes back to Blaine for a few seconds. The man was clearly enjoying talking about this and Carl smiled.

"Hello, Sue. What a… _pleasure_ to see you again," he answered lifting the ceramic cup to his lips and smiling into it.

Sue Sylvester sat down after a quick glance at the chair, her face twisting in distaste. She hadn't changed much, even if the last time he'd seen her, had been when he'd brought in the spoils from the Egyptian National bank 2 years ago. Her carefully cut blonde hair and aging face,(though if you'd tell her that, she'd probably skin you alive) were the same as back then.

He'd still done business with her, but her minions and employees in the Cheerio Diamond Corporation handled the shipments. The last time he'd intended to bring her a shipment of precious stones, 3 women that dubbed themselves the Unholy Trinity had picked it up. One of them had been a Latina, he remembered darkly. He'd hated being called a hobbit.

Figures that Sue wanted her diamonds protected by one of the most famous assassin groups in Europe.

The blonde woman was dressed in a dark navy suit, probably Armani, and had silver aviator sunglasses perched on her nose. She crossed her legs, not a care in the world, as she motioned a waiter with a raised hand.

"Let's skip formalities shall we," Blaine set the cup back on the table as he spoke, leaning forward in his seat, lowering his voice. "What have you got for me?"

"A question." She simply said, a dark haired boy came up to them to get her order.

Blaine frowned, but waited until the waiter left to get her Mocha.

"A question?"

"100.000 euros upfront if you answer it with proof." Sue got out her phone and seemed to be looking through it. This was something that couldn't be said here then. He wasn't surprised when she handed him the phone and he quickly looked at it, as Sue talked. It was a simple blue and white picture that he recognized all too well. The Antwerp World Diamond Centre logo.

"In 6 months time, a shipment of fresh, uncut Smythe diamonds worth $90 million will get stored in their vault," she informed him. The Smythe family were the owners of a French-American diamond corporation, owning 56% of the world's diamond trade.

"I want to know, if it's possible for you to get in there and… _take them_, without getting caught."

* * *

><p>"So she just asked you all out? No cloak and dagger?" Carl looked incredulous and wide-eyed. Ms. Gold seemed dangerous. The police probably already knew her connection to the Unholy Trinity. A trio of assassins, trained for infiltration and silent kills. There had been whispers, of course. One of them was Hispanic and the other two were blondes. Or they were most of the time.<p>

"Ms. Gold has never been one for games, she's always been upfront about what she wants. And she gets very pissed when she doesn't get what she wants. She's like a shark. She smells blood and she tears her victim apart."

Blaine glanced around the room and at the door.

"I bet she knows I'm here and is laughing at me for being so stupid." Blaine smirks and waves to one of the cameras. "She's a bitch, but a smart one."

* * *

><p>Blaine took a deep breath and looked at Sue's face, to see if she was pulling his leg, which she probably wasn't. He'd been inside the vault, as a customer. It was impossible to crack. He already knew that, without actively researching it and cracking it.<p>

"You want me to figure out if it's possible to rob one of the most secure places in the world?" Sue sighed at him in annoyance and adjusted her sunglasses.

"Do you need me to spell it out for you, hobbit? You are one of the only ones I know who has access without the actual… paper trail." Blaine nodded in acknowledgement and scowled at the nickname. What was it with people calling him a hobbit?

The people working at the Diamond Centre knew his face, yes, but they didn't know his name. Of course Sue would know about the alias he'd created here in Antwerp. If you wanted to trade, sell or buy diamonds and were already on radar for numerous heists, using your own identity would just sound the bells for the cops. He'd be caught faster than he could say 'robbery'. In Antwerp, he wasn't Blaine Anderson or Prince Charming, he was Dalton Phillips, a familiar diamond seller and buyer with a friendly smile and a gleam in his eye.

"It's impossible, I can tell you that without any doubt, Sue. I can prove it to you too, if you give me until tomorrow, but it's _impossible_. Off the top of my head, the_ door_ alone has 6 layers of security. Not to mention all the surveillance inside and outside here on the street." He gestured to one of the video cameras pointed at the tall, fortress like building and the surrounding area. "That vault is impossible to steal from." Blaine sighed, crossing his arms on top of the table's surface. Sue just gave him a disdainful look.

"Just give me pictures, Anderson, and I'll be out of the curly mop you call hair." He self-consciously raised a hand to his haircut. "And do not underestimate me, Frodo, you know me better than that. Now. Will you, or will you not answer my question?"

'_A 100.000 euros for a few pictures.' _Blaine shifted his eyes to Sue's, ignoring the second Lord of the Rings reference. He could see himself reflected in her aviator glasses and he furrowed his brows. _'It's a nice sum for doing practically nothing. Just take the pen, walk in, walk out. They always fall for it.'_

"Deal."

* * *

><p>"So, you agreed to her deal and went in and took pictures of everything?" Carl questioned.<p>

"Yes. As I'm sure you've already researched for your article, the security measures will have changed somewhat since my last…_visit_. But a few months ago, they didn't monitor everything yet. A camera hidden in a pen cap wasn't noticed by anyone. For security personnel, they were friendly. Customers are given the highest grade of hospitality, even if they don't trust you all that much."

* * *

><p>Blaine made his way into the Diamond Centre. It was two hours after Sue had walked away from him, giving him a time and place to meet her after he'd taken the pictures she asked for.<p>

"Good afternoon Mr. Phillips," an enthusiastic voice chimed and Blaine suppressed a smile, pulling of his sunglasses and greeting the Jewish girl behind the counter.

"Hello, Rachel. Please, call me Dalton, you know how I hate being called Mr. Phillips. It reminds me of my father." He scrunched his face up in distaste and the brunette blushed prettily and giggled.

"Old habits die hard, Mr. Phillips, here's your keycard and your security code for today. The vault is open, like always." She handed him his security pass and a small piece of paper, turned back to her computer screen and he laughed. Rachel hadn't changed a bit from when he'd first met her a few months ago. He'd flirted with her, not intending to actually pursue her and she had been very adamant about not starting a relationship with him or him actively trying to seduce her.

He remembered her words all too clearly. "_Mr. Phillips, as much as I appreciate the kind words and attention, I must tell you that I will never actually respond. I love my fiancé and am not looking for an affair, however much it would be romantic and interesting to have an admirer. I am not a woman for torrid whirlwind affairs."_

Blaine had goodheartedly replied with an 'Ah, so mote it be. He is a very lucky fellow then, your fiancé.' Before walking towards the elevators and shivering a little. He'd hated flirting with Rachel and was relieved that he wouldn't get anywhere with her. She seemed a bit…_manic._

Make no mistake, Blaine is not in any way heterosexual, but Dalton was. Had to keep the cover.

* * *

><p>"Ah. You're gay then?" Carl paused his writing again, looking up in surprise. He hadn't expected that to be revealed.<p>

"Very much so. I appreciate the ladies, yes, but never in a romantic way. Dalton, however, was a ladies man, or seemed to be at least." Blaine licked his lips. "I am very careful with my alter egos. Dalton is a person I created years ago, because he fit into society and filled the cracks effortlessly. No one questions a somewhat rich diamond dealer, who likes the occasional cigar and is a big fan of pretty woman. Being of a different sexual persuasion draws attention. I didn't want that attention." He looked up to the ceiling and smiled a little.

"Only in private was I myself. Only when I was with my lovely Porcelain." Carl's eyes widened a little.

"One of the accomplices?" Porcelain was the hacker and disguise expert of the group, who had never been identified or caught, like the others, Monster and Forge. Carl sat back and swept a hand through his short, brown hair.

"I see you did your homework, Mr. Towns. Yes. My sweet Porcelain," He said with a wistful smile, "A beautiful man who I will tell you about in great detail when we get to that point in the story." Carl nodded. "For now, let's continue…"

* * *

><p>Blaine carefully looked around and observed his surroundings, the ring he was wearing had a direct link to the pen in his breast pocket. He knew most people would laugh at his blatant use of something so James Bond like, but it worked like a charm. He simply clicked the small button on the ring and a HD picture would be taken and stored on a small flash drive hidden in the pen.<p>

Unbeknownst to the security people, he'd been taking pictures ever since he walked into the building. He'd already managed to photograph all the security measures in the lobby, taking care to capture all the cameras and sensors there, and was being as inconspicuous as possible.

He knew he had to be careful in this situation; trust could easily be lost in this business. He'd only have to make a single mistake and he'd blow his cover and never be able to return here. Taking pictures like this was a delicate procedure.

He held the keycard in front of the elevator door panel and the doors opened noiselessly. Blaine took in the familiar interior and stepped inside, still clicking away.

Camera in upper left corner, code to get to the vault floor, 2 floors down, and elevator could be opened from a panel in the ceiling.

Click. Click. Click.

The only sounds in the little room were the almost imperceptible clicks and the unfamiliar French song playing out of the speakers in the walls. Blaine hated elevator music.

He typed in the unfamiliar code to get to the vault floor and the doors closed. He felt the floor shake for a few seconds before the elevator started moving down. It would take exactly 23 seconds to get there, without interruptions.

'_Punctuality,'_ he mused to himself. _'Is very important.'_

The elevator doors slipped open and Blaine walked out gracefully, the familiar vault antechamber greeting him. The security guard at the side of the elevator gave him a friendly 'goedemiddag', dutch for good afternoon, and Blaine nodded his own head in acknowledgement. He knew the guard would leave him his privacy and get into a small room next to the vault. It was standard procedure.

He clicked away, turning a few degrees to capture the cameras until he walked up to the vault door.

He'd never done a significant amount of studying pertaining the vault, having only spared it a few passing glances. It was heavy, painted a deep red, almost brown and made of at least 3 tons of steel. He ghosted a hand over the slick surface and waited until the camera turned away from the door to scan the rest of the room. He quickly got out the pen and snapped a few pictures of the door, the keyhole, code lock and the little dots on the side that indicated seismic sensors inside the door.

He clicked the buzzer at the side of the vault door and the metal gate behind the vault door opened swiftly.

He made quick work of the inside of the vault, faking a yawn and stretching out his arms, pen still clutched inside his hand, snapping pictures. The security cameras, the magnetic field, the light sensor on the ceiling, the heat and motion sensors on all sides of the room and at last, the two rows of safe-deposit boxes in various sizes and the small stall stashed between them, for the security and privacy of the customers and what they had stored inside their boxes.

Blaine knew that not only diamonds were stored inside this vault. Cash, photographs, evidence of crimes, everything was stored here. He walked up to his own box and typed in the 6-digit code, getting out his key and putting it into the tiny keyhole.

The little box opened and Blaine got out one of the little bags he'd stashed there. He removed it and closed the small door, before walking over to the tiny stall and getting inside, closing the door behind him and shifting around for a few seconds. He went through the motions of opening and closing the bag and ruffling around before he reopened the door without actually having done anything, taking pictures from the new angle, now having an excuse to turn around and see the interior or the vault from a different side.

* * *

><p>"It was really that easy? Going in there and taking those pictures?"<p>

"It really was. Trust is a thing not given easily, but when given, is one of the most precious and dangerous things in the world."

* * *

><p>"Have a nice day, Mr. Phillips!" Rachel chimed again and Blaine gave her a little wave over his shoulder, adjusting his sunglasses as he walked towards the exit. He took pictures of the security point, a glass square room behind the front desk, while he slowly made his way outside.<p>

"Until next time, Rachel."

He walked into the late afternoon sun and took another few pictures of his surroundings. The retractable steal cylinders made him pause and look around for the control booth. He'd almost forgotten about that.

The Diamond district was protected from unauthorized transport by the cylinders, making it impossible for cars to enter the district without permission from the security center on the Schupstraat, a street leading to the center of the district.

Blaine walked past it, the two security guards not looking up from their conversation or the tiny monitors connected to the cameras strewn out over the entire district, taping every little movement 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. He clicked a few more pictures before walking down the street and exiting the small part of the city.

Blaine got out his phone and dialed the number Sue had given him, his left hand in the pants pocket of his dark suit.

"You have the pictures?"

"I have them. Do you want them printed or on a drive?"

"Drive. See you tomorrow Anderson."

"Goodbye Sue."

* * *

><p>"And I think I'll leave it at this for today." Blaine laughed and crossed his legs.<p>

"I think that will be alright," Carl answered before giving an appreciating whistle, "Quite a story."

Blaine hummed and smirked.

"We haven't even started yet."


	2. Well Everybody Does

_OHIO STATE PENITENTIARY, 11:46 AM. AUGUST 21st._

The last time Carl had been here, he'd gone back to the motel he was staying at, after the exciting conversation. He'd typed out the interview and sent it to the prison warden, who'd probably send it to the detectives investigating the case back in Belgium. He and Blaine had shaken hands, the promise of a next time making both of them smile.

Different guards greeted him at the steel gate this time.

"You change guards regularly?" He questioned and one of them, a burly man who looked to be in his late 30s laughed a little.

"Ah, standard procedure. We switch things up every 4 weeks. Only the guards at the gate though. Got a few new employees this week." Carl nodded and stepped through the double doors, taking care to take his bag through the security post at the entrance. He wouldn't be able to keep it in the meeting room otherwise, the previous guards had told him clearly.

The building hadn't changed from last week and it didn't surprise him. The décor looked like the employees or stylists had stopped making changes to it right after its build a decade ago. He was led down the familiar hallway leading to the meeting room and was once again greeted by a wall of noise.

"It's only every so noisy at the end of summer," the guard leading him to the room said. "It will quiet down the next few weeks, restarting schools and work and all."

"I should have guessed."

He walked into the room, the guard closing the door behind him and he saw Blaine once again sitting at one of the tables, a Styrofoam cup in his hands. He was staring into space, seemingly not taking note of anyone in the room. Carl's smile slipped from his face.

"What happened?" he asked. Blaine gave him a look and Carl masked his fearful expression.

"My lawyer can't do anything for me. I've been sentenced to stay here for the next 20 years." Blaine gave him a weak smile that didn't reach his eyes. "He's been trying to get me out on house arrest or a shorter sentence. Seems like all the money in the world can't save me now."

They sat in silence for a little bit, Carl awkwardly shifting in his seat, seemingly battling his own feelings on the matter. "I.. don't really know what to say." They shared a look and the rest went seemingly unspoken.

"It's alright. I knew this was coming. Stealing for almost your entire life, there is always the risk of something going wrong. This was the heist of a lifetime. We pulled it off, but at the price of my freedom."

"I bet it was," Carl said and Blaine gave him a questioning look. "I bet it was the heist of a lifetime."

"It was."

Carl offered a smile and Blaine sighed before smiling back.

* * *

><p><em>Abandoned warehouse, Dijkstraat, Aartselaar, Belgium. 10 miles outside of Antwerp.<em>

_4 months before the heist._

Blaine got out of the sleek black car, the streetlights illuminating his carefully gelled hair as he walked up to the looming building. Sue was waiting for him at the entrance and Blaine sighed in both anxiousness and trepidation. He didn't know what was going to happen tonight. He could be killed for all he knew.

Exactly 2 months ago, Blaine had handed her the pictures he'd taken at the Centre, stored on an encrypted USB stick. She had left him alone after that. Sue didn't call, didn't text, hadn't tried to contact him in any way, until 5 hours ago. The text had been simple. A summon to an address outside of Antwerp, to show him something important.

"I want to introduce you to some people," she spoke while they walked through the newly opened door. It was old and battered, the yellowing white paint pealing off in random pieces, the hinges rusting. It creaked horribly when Sue closed it behind them and Blaine flinched at the sound. "Now, don't be scared, young Burt Reynolds. I'm not going to ice you. You're too useful."

Blaine looked around, expecting a wide and empty space or a few chairs and a table. Hell, that would have been easy enough to deal with. Nothing could have prepared him for this. There, in the middle of the expanse of the building stood a massive structure, covered and shaded with black tarps. Sue guided him towards it with a push of her hand on his lower back.

She pulled back one of the edges of the tarp, a stripe of bright light passing through and lighting up the otherwise empty space around them. Sue ducked underneath the plastic and Blaine quickly followed suit.

The difference in light made him squint at first, the brightness assaulting his eyes unexpectedly. When he focused, he saw a familiar sight that _really_ shouldn't be where it was now. It should be in Antwerp, 2 stories underground, guarded by highly trained personnel.

He was standing in the vault antechamber and that _really shouldn't be possible_.

"My initial time frame was 5 months to complete this thing. Got it down in 2, thanks to a friend." Sue gestured around, not standing still for a moment and walked into the vault. Blaine had trouble taking everything in. The floors and walls were the same dull grey as the real one, the cameras the same model as the ones in the Diamond Centre. Even the creases in the wall were the same. The only things that seemed to be missing were the security measures in the vault door.

"Wow."

* * *

><p>"She made a <em>replica <em>of the vault? How is that even possible?"

Blaine seemed a little more cheered, enthused by telling the story and Carl's curiosity.

"She never told me. Ms. Gold has an incredible reach. She has a finger in every big business and likes to make use of her contacts. I guess someone owed her a favor," He mused, sipping from his cup, grimacing at the cold coffee and setting it back down on the table. Carl noticed Blaine's hands were bound to a long chain, attached to the chair he was sitting on. His face morphed into a grimace of distaste.

Blaine continued where he'd left off, ignoring Carl's look and relaxing a little.

* * *

><p>"Follow me, midget." Blaine actually scowled at her this time, but followed her into the vault, not noticing the 3 figures leaning against the two rows of safety deposit boxes, having a silent conversation.<p>

"Stop making height jokes. It gets old really fast. Also, I'm not _that_ short," He said, observing the vault door and looking at the detail that had been put into it. It was the same dark red as the one in the Diamond Centre, the bolts a stark silver.

"I don't know, you look pretty short to me," a gruff voice chimed in and Blaine looked away from the vault door into the actual vault. The comment had come from a broad and tall man sporting a Mohawk, flanked by an Asian man and a brown haired one, but Blaine wasn't really paying attention to them. He only spared them a quick glance before focusing on what stood stored here, ignoring Mohawk's stated opinion.

In the middle of the vault stood a table overflowing with floor plans, blueprints, security details and potential security agencies from what Blaine could see. He sharply looked up at Sue and let his eyes drift over the other people.

"You…want to actually _rob_ one of the most high security vaults in the _world?_ Are you completely _insane?_" Blaine knew he looked not only surprised, he was pretty sure he was also wide-eyed. He licked his lips, a nervous habit he'd developed in his childhood. "I mean, good job in replicating the vault. But you actually want to go in there and _steal_ from it?"

"You sure this one's going to be of any help, Sue?" This voice sounded soft, melodic almost. "He seems a little unnerved by the whole affair." Blaine was indeed unnerved, but he wouldn't let some stranger put him on the spot like this. Everyone was seemingly out to get him today and it was starting to seriously get on his already high strung nerves.

"I'm not unnerved, I just think this entire thing is ridiculous and it would never-" Blaine chanced a look at where the voice came from and his words died in his throat.

He was pale, extremely so. That was the first thing Blaine noticed. Lean and tall, probably a fair few inches taller than Blaine was and he was, like his taller and burlier companions, leaning against a row of safety deposit boxes.

The stranger also, Blaine realized belatedly, stole his breath away.

* * *

><p>"Porcelain I take it?" Carl questioned pausing in his writing as Blaine stared at him, seemingly lost in thought. The rapport had stated Blaine's particular interest had been one of the accomplices. Questions of what had happened to the mysterious companion, which no one had been able to answer and the question marks remained. Blaine had breathed a sigh of relief, the paper had stated. His partner had remained anonymous but for the given nickname. Porcelain.<p>

"Yes. My sweet and beautiful Porcelain." Carl looked up at the criminal, his own eyes far away.

"You were…lovers, then?" Carl already knew the answer, but asked anyway.

Blaine gave a wistful smile, the one of a man who missed someone very dear to him and Carl swallowed heavily.

"We still are."

* * *

><p>"Standing in front of you, is a team of specialists chosen carefully by yours truly," Sue began, "First, Noah Puckerman, nickname Puck, our electronics and mechanics expert. He can circumvent any power source out there." She motioned to the person standing on the far right, "Mike Chang, forger. He can duplicate almost anything. Checks, keys, keycards, uniforms, you name it." Blaine nodded in acknowledgement and Mike gave a little wave.<p>

"And last but most certainly not least, Kurt Hummel, our resident hacker and security expert. He might not look the part, but he managed to find your medical records, school records and any sports activity you had in the first 15 years of your life with only your name and his laptop at his disposal." Blaine crossed his arms and tried not to look like an idiot.

"You sure you can disable the alarm system?" He inquired, shifting his weight to one side.

Kurt just gave him a soft smile, answering the question teasingly.

"I can disable most of it, you're going to have to do one or two thing yourself, though." Blaine hummed, giving the vault a calculating look.

"The timeframe for this heist is only 4 months, we'll never-"

"100 million for the Smythe diamonds only, Anderson. That is without counting anything else hidden inside that vault. At least 25 million each and since I'm going to profit from the drop in the market if the diamonds disappear, make it 30. You have 4 months, with this at your disposal." Sue threw up her arms gesturing to their surroundings and at the table. Blaine had some awareness of how short a time it actually was to plan a robbery like this, even if the team working with him was promising. His eyes strayed over them once more, pausing on Kurt. He truly was beautiful, his skin pale and unblemished, his eyes the most capturing he'd ever had the pleasure to see.

Blaine knew he didn't need the money, he had tons of it, But he recalled the thrum of adrenaline, the thrill of leaving behind a crippled security system and getting away without consequences and took a harsh gulp of air. Even at just the thought of stealing, his heart beat a little faster and the people he would be doing this with seemed to have the same feeling, judging by the eagerness in their faces.

Sue stepped closer and leaned over, whispering in his ear. "He's gay and single." Blaine flushed a deep red and scowled at her, not daring to glance at Kurt. He hoped it had been inaudible. Sighing deeply, he looked up at them, a determined expression on his face.

"Alright. Let's do this."

* * *

><p>Carl let out a soft laugh, pausing in his writing to keep from messing up the paper as his shoulders shook.<p>

"She really said that? And it convinced you?" he asked a little breathlessly and Blaine grinned.

"I won't say it was _the_ deciding factor, but yes. It did, indeed, help convince me."

* * *

><p><em>Blaine's apartment, Antwerp, 1 week after the meeting. <em>

The first few days were awkward. Blaine hadn't been counting on sudden guests, so his apartment hadn't either. It was all very tentative, at first. The 4 of them were all careful around each other, not giving much away and getting used to living with strangers.

The icebreaker had come, fortunately, after only 2 days. He'd found out that all of them seemed to enjoy music. He'd asked them to join him at a karaoke bar and they'd hit it off.

Mike was a fun guy who liked to dance and was engaged to a lovely girl named Tina, who lived in France at the moment. He'd gotten into robbing banks a few years ago and was always the go-to person for fake ID's in high school, which had made him both popular and loved among his peers.

Noah, or 'Puck' as he'd demanded to be called, was a burly guy who played guitar and had been a football player in high school. He got into mechanics and electronics when his car had broken down and he hadn't had the money to actually get it fixed. He'd spent some time in Juvie after trying to steal an ATM machine. He'd never been caught after that.

Blaine, of course, had his own story even if he hadn't told the others the whole extend of it. His was a little more complicated than the others, even if he wasn't completely sure, Kurt hadn't told them his own yet.

Blaine had grown up in a family that was a little…too normal. You see, the Andersons were a well off Christian family, their father a successful businessman, their mother a doctor. They were a family of the Book, very religious and conservative in their ways. Reputation was everything.

It hadn't really been a surprise when Blaine got kicked out when they found out he was of a different sexual persuasion than they'd expected. He was 15. His parents wanted nothing to do with him anymore, but his brother had been supportive and opened his home to Blaine, who had been beaten up and bruised after he'd come out at school at the Sadie Hawkins dance.

Cooper Anderson was a little different. Blaine had gotten that as soon as he moved in with him. Cooper was 24, almost 9 years older than Blaine and had moved out as soon as he was 18, hating the oppressive atmosphere of the Anderson home. Blaine certainly hadn't blamed him, he'd hated it too, but a 9 year old didn't always comprehend everything and he'd hated his brother for a long time. He'd left him, after all.

His getting kicked out had been a blessing, Blaine found out. Cooper was fun and even though he wasn't a responsible adult all the time, something that Blaine would have liked, he was always there for Blaine when he needed him.

It had come as a shock when he found out that Cooper was a rather successful criminal, who'd stolen a _lot_ of money to support the lifestyle Blaine had grown fond of in his years with the older sibling. Cooper's business trips had never seemed anything _but_ business trips. He'd be gone for a couple of weeks and return smiling, lavishing Blaine with new clothes and cd's of his favorite artists and the teenager had never questioned it.

His brother had kept the money he stole carefully hidden and Blaine had never actually witnessed it coming into the apartment or going out. He'd found out when Cooper came home late one night, out of breath and clutching a bag and he'd said that Blaine had to pack as soon as possible. Demanding an explanation, Cooper had finally told him about the bank robberies he and a few of his associates orchestrated every few months.

Blaine hadn't talked to him for a few days, as they went from motel to motel and eventually left the state of Ohio and the place Blaine had grown up in. He was 17 and had just started his senior year in high school.

He didn't miss it.

* * *

><p>"Cooper was the one who brought me into the business," Blaine spoke, "I didn't actively participate in any of the robberies, but Cooper was the one who got me started on stealing. I was a naïve teenager who adored his older brother and I was curious."<p>

Carl nodded and wrote the info down.

"He taught me the basics at first. Lock picking, the differences between security systems, the art of not leaving a trace. But Cooper wasn't always subtle. He got caught 3 weeks after my 18th birthday."

"What happened to him?"

Blaine seemed to close off a little at Carl's question. His brother had always been a sore subject.

"He went to prison with a 10 year sentence, I visited him diligently for 6 months until he escaped and disappeared without a trace."

There was silence between them for a few moments, neither knowing exactly what to say.

"Did you ever see him again?" Carl asked softly and the inmate hesitated for a few moments.

"I didn't." Blaine answered finally.

* * *

><p>Kurt was still a mystery even after a week had gone by. Blaine hadn't gotten a lot out of him, other then that he'd grown up in Ohio like Blaine and that he liked fashion.<p>

The brown haired man had taken to spending time in the room he'd claimed for himself, researching and hacking security agencies to find out how to disable the alarms in the Diamond Centre. He was pure business. It set Blaine's teeth on edge. Kurt took hours in the bathroom every morning and evening, looked on in distaste as the others ate Chinese food and cooked himself something that he dubbed 'non poisonous' and kept to himself.

They travelled from the apartment to the warehouse every day, bending over blueprints and security details with vigor, formulating a plan to get past the security and the vault door. They worked from 10 in the morning till 5 in the afternoon, doing with their evenings as they wished.

Puck went out to bars, Mike going with him occasionally and Blaine stayed home for the most part. So did Kurt. They were seated on opposite sides of the living room right now, Kurt reading a magazine and Blaine staring at the tv, not sure what to do with himself.

Kurt made him uncomfortable in ways that people hadn't in _years._ Like now, the man was just sitting there, legs crossed, neck arched to the side and reading a Vogue magazine and it made Blaine _nervous _like a teenager with a crush.

Seemingly sensing his gaze Kurt looked up and held his stare.

"_What?_"

Blaine stuttered for an explanation because _really _he couldn't say 'oh just staring at your neck, it's gorgeous by the way' without looking like a stalker or something.

"I- uhm- uh, Is that the Vogue issue from October?"

"_Seriously?_ That's your conversation starter? My magazine? Classy."

Blaine felt appropriately stupid and flustered. He didn't understand why Kurt made him so flustered and _dumb_. He used to be much smoother than this.

"Don't worry, Prince Charming. You haven't completely ruined my expectations. You read Vogue?"

Blaine nodded and Kurt smirked.

"There is hope for you yet."

* * *

><p>"It was love at first sight, for me at least," Blaine said as he laughed.<p>

"I can only imagine." Carl was smiling at Blaine's enthusiasm. He'd long ago stopped writing everything down, just enjoying the man's story. This wasn't relevant to the article, even if it made the mighty robber more human.

A buzzer went off, indicating the end of the visitation time and Carl stood up. He extended his hand and Blaine shook it firmly, the liveliness back in his eyes and body.

"It was a pleasure to see you again, Carl." Blaine smiled, retracting his hand and sitting back down as Carl grabbed his bag from the floor. The guard at the door motioned for him as the rest of the room slowly drained off people.

"The pleasure was all mine. I can't wait to hear the rest. See you next week."

"Yes." Blaine grinned. "Till next time."

* * *

><p>Ok. I hope you guys liked this chapter :), R&amp;R and you get a cookie :D<p> 


	3. I Won't Stop Until It's Done

_Ohio State Penitentiary, 1:30 PM, August 21st. _

Blaine was lying on his cot, staring up at the ceiling and just _remembering._ Kurt hadn't warmed up to him at first, yes, but it had eventually changed. He remembered giggling like a teenager when they cooked dinner together and Kurt threw flour at him. The way Kurt had held Blaine's hands in his and asked him about his childhood dreams, one of his thumbs slowly stroking over Blaine's knuckles. Hell, even the way Puck had yelled at them to 'keep their sappy shit in the bedroom' made him smile.

They hadn't always been like that. There was a start to things of course.

* * *

><p>"And <em>that<em> is why I think Lady Gaga is a better artist than Katy Perry," Kurt finished taking another hand of popcorn and popping the pieces into his mouth. They were sitting on the couch watching a movie Blaine hadn't remembered the name of, discussing music and female artists and other general stuff.

Much to their mutual surprise, or Blaine's, because Kurt already knew where Blaine came from due to the background check he'd done, they both grew up in Ohio, not 2 hours away from each other. Kurt seemed amazingly worldly for someone coming from Lima and seemed to dislike the city very much. Blaine was indifferent about Westerville, as he hadn't seen the place in over 10 years.

The movie was playing in the background, long forgotten as their chatter continued.

"We'll agree to disagree then. I prefer Katy, you prefer Gaga," Blaine said and Kurt sighed but nodded, adjusting himself to sink further into Blaine's comfortable dark brown couch. "So, other than your fanaticism about Lady Gaga and healthy cooking, and your fascination with fashion, what is there to know about Kurt Hummel?" Blaine said it teasingly but Kurt looked up sharply, his eyes calculating.

"Why should I tell you?" he spoke and Blaine frowned at the hostile tone, fiddling with the blanket that covered his lap. He felt uneasy at Kurt's reaction.

"You don't have to, but don't you think that it'd help us all get along? We _do_ have to spend at least 4 months together. I'd like us to be a little more than complete strangers. I'm also interested in how you came to be like me."_ A thief._

An awkward silence followed Blaine's words, only the movie still playing on the TV filling the room with sound. Blaine looked down at his hands, stopping their movements and waiting for Kurt to say something. When he did, it shocked Blaine.

"When I was 16, my dad ended up in the hospital in a coma due to a heart attack," He began. "The medical bills were steep and they kept coming. My mom passed away when I was 8, so I didn't really have anyone to help me. I'd always been good with numbers in school and computers just seemed to like me. It was only a matter of time before I found out ways to hack people and steal from their bank accounts. It was surprisingly easy." Kurt's voice seemed to stutter a little at the end.

"My dad- he passed away in the hospital. He'd gone into cardiac arrest again, shortly after I'd stolen enough money to pay the bills and future bills for medication and the like. I had to spend the money meant for his health, on his funeral."

Blaine felt sick.

"I- I'm sorry," he muttered softly, "I wouldn't have asked if-"

"Stop that right now." Kurt scowled and Blaine met his eyes. They seemed stormy and darker than their usual blue. "You didn't know, you were curious, it happens. After it all went downhill I just kept stealing. It was easier than working. I finished high school while living with my dad's girlfriend and her son and moved to New York right after." He took a sip from his glass of water on the small side table next to the couch. "So how about you Anderson? You got any skeletons in your closet? Except the whole criminal thing?" The silent 'you got anything happen to you, like this_?'_ hung in the air.

Blaine saw the curiosity plain on Kurt's face, but saw the edge of tension in his facial muscles. He accepted the change of focus, unwilling to extend the awkwardness any further and decided not to push for any more info.

_For now._

"I got kicked out when I was 15, because my parents couldn't accept my sexuality. My brother took me in." He said bluntly, not planning on telling Kurt everything. Hell, he probably already knew this anyways. "Cooper, is a little _eccentric_. Or was at least, the last time I saw him was 6 years ago, right before he became a fugitive and left. I was alone after that, decided to become a thief like him."

He hadn't told any of the people who were a part of this heist that he was gay. He'd told them the general 'got kicked out, lived with brother' but he'd never given them the entire story. Kurt didn't seem to care.

The man hummed and let his head fall back, his neck resting on the back of the couch and Blaine gulped at the exposed pale skin. Blaine had carefully observed Kurt, of course. The man bounced around the apartment doing various things and it had disrupted Blaine's concentration multiple times. His eyes had followed Kurt's movements and taken in all that Kurt dared to subconsciously show.

Basically, Blaine checked him out. A lot.

His hands, that seemed so soft yet strong, going through the motions of pouring himself a glass of soymilk. His legs, splayed out on the couch as he read a book, his tongue sticking out a little in concentration. His voice, clear and slightly higher than he was used to, rambling off the security details he'd managed to scavenge from the pictures Blaine had taken of the cameras and equipment. His eyes, as they drifted over Blaine's face before returning to the stove and the vegetables he was cooking.

They were closed now, long eyelashes seemingly dusting his cheeks as he breathed slowly, evenly. The awkward conversation seemed eons ago now, the pleasant silence between them following Blaine's disclosure giving an easy comfortable air. There was a lot Blaine wanted to say. How sorry he was for bringing up Kurt's past, if he still had contact with the people he'd lived with in Lima, if he'd gone to college in New York, if he'd ever been caught. He refrained.

Blaine looked away and relaxed, the tension leaving his shoulders. He hadn't noticed how high sprung he'd been talking to Kurt, asking him things and receiving an answer after the few times they'd actually exchanged words. He leaned back against the couch, mimicking Kurt's movements and closing his eyes, enjoying the low murmur of the TV in the background and the sound of his own breathing.

"I know you were looking."

Blaine immediately tensed up again, sitting up from his slouched position and turning his surprised eyes on the now smirking man beside him.

"I- What?" he feigned innocence and flushed and Kurt cracked an eye open, sweeping it over Blaine, making him squirm.

"Don't act innocent, you're kind of obvious." And with that Kurt opened his eyes fully, got up and walked off towards his room. "I looked back, just so you know." Blaine sat there on the couch, gaping at his retreating frame and scrambling for words. He never got the chance to say anything as the door closed behind Kurt, leaving him to his thoughts.

He looked down at the half empty popcorn bowl and the rapidly cooling spot where Kurt had sat only a few seconds ago. He'd looked back. Kurt had looked back. Blaine's silent observing had been noticed and returned and _why_ was this causing Blaine to feel so thrilled?

He resolved to forget about it for the moment, taking a piece of popcorn and turning to the TV. Someone was kissing someone else on screen and he didn't know their names or really cared that he didn't. The conversation with Kurt was still fresh, the words lingering in the air around him. Kurt had checked him out too.

And maybe, just maybe, Blaine's heart beat a little faster in excitement.

* * *

><p><em>Ohio State Penitentiary, 11:45 PM, August 28<em>_th__._

The same guard that took him from his cell every week stood impatiently before him, waiting for Blaine to get ready. There wasn't much he could do to do so, but he liked annoying the guards.

His thoughts drifted back to Cooper, who had been in this situation too, years ago. He understood Cooper's need to get away from a place like this. The wall were stifling, the food horrible and the company even worse.

The only thing Blaine had to look forward to was that familiar head of brown hair and the notepad that allowed him to tell about his life story and reminisce about better times.

A smile broke out on his face as the guard roughly put on his cuffs, the cold metal a welcome weight on Blaine's wrists. It kept him grounded, just like the gate that closed behind him every time he returned from the short conversations. It told him that _this_ was what he'd been avoiding. _This_ was his motivation for not getting caught. And even if he was in jail now and he'd have to supposedly stay here for 20 years, he knew he wouldn't be here for long.

The smile turned into a smirk.

They walked down the row of cells, some empty some having one or two people lounging around in it. People kept clear of him when they found out he could defend himself sufficiently. And by _sufficiently_ they meant that they'd found out Blaine liked to work out in his private gym, something he'd built attached to his house in Spain and had been a pretty decent boxer.

The other inmates didn't mess with him after he'd beat up one after they tried to get to him in the showers.

The buzzer above the door sounded and Blaine walked through, the guard cuffing him to the chair before walking off to the coffee machine. This guard, named Will, always got him a coffee and Blaine was grateful of that, even if the coffee in his place was pretty much shit. He appreciated the gesture.

People started streaming into the room as the other inmates were cuffed to their seats, minimizing their movements. Blaine's eyes were trained on the door, waiting for the familiar tall man to walk in with his bag clutched in his arms and his clothes in slight disarray due to the security checks.

He took a sip of the disgusting coffee and cleared his throat, waiting for the arrivals to get seated. They chattered animatedly, joyful sounds filling the room. He breathed deeply as a woman and child entered the room, the child immediately jumping on one of the inmates' laps, hugging him enthusiastically.

"If happy little bluebirds fly beyond the rainbow, why oh why can't I?" he muttered casting his eyes down to gaze at the brown substance in the white cup clutched between his fingers.

"E.Y. Harburg, right?" Blaine didn't look up, just smiled into the cup as he tilted it to his lips, pausing only to affirm the statement. "Then you should know that 'The bluebird carries the sky on it's back.'"

"Thoreau." Blaine looked up at his companion, his eyes dwelling on the familiar face.

"Yes," Carl answered smiling at Blaine's intense stare and the curly haired criminal smiled back. "How has your week been?"

"It's been okay so far," Blaine spoke, setting the cup down and folding his hands on the table. "No inmates have bothered me, the food still sucks and the entertainment is lousy, but I get by." Carl hummed in acknowledgment.

"I got permission to start recording our interview sessions, because my hand keeps cramping so much and I don't want to miss anything." Blaine tilted his head to the side at the unfamiliar item now on the table. "If you're not comfortable with me recording our conversation I'll refrain."

"No, go right ahead. If you can remember my story better with that, I see no problem."

Carl nodded and activated the small recording device, putting it between them at the center of the table, a red light flickering on and off.

* * *

><p><em>Abandoned warehouse, Dijkstraat, Aartselaar, Belgium. 10 miles outside of Antwerp.<em>

"So have you figured out something for the magnetic field behind the gate yet?" Blaine inquired. They were 5 weeks in now, time slowly ticking down to the day they would leave Belgium as multi-millionaires. Blaine had finally understood _why_ Sue had asked him for this job. The others were far more specialized in their craft than Blaine was, but they'd never robbed anything of this scale. Blaine was there because of the experience, his general knowledge and his ability to get in without suspicion.

"I've been toying around with magnetic plates and aluminum but haven't found a definite way to move the field," Puck answered. "The density of the metal is really important, haven't figured out how thick it has to be for me to be able to get it on the other side of the vault."

"And the sensors?"

Puck snorted, "Those are the easiest thing to get rid off. Styrofoam is the way to go man. They keep out the heat pretty good, but we have to be careful with placing them to not trigger the motion sensors."

Blaine made note of it on his list and went to the next item on the carefully penned plan. He'd gone in an out of the vault on a regular basis to get the others information on the devices and security from the eye of a professional bank robber, not a camera or pictures. He'd taken a lot, but sometimes things went unnoticed by a miniscule lens.

He'd focused on the brands of security, code locks and sensors and anything that Sue and her magic vault builder might have missed, hoping either Kurt or Puck would be able to trace them back to their origins and find ways around them. Kurt had been able to track the security cameras to a company called Belseccom, a Belgian security company specialized in surveillance equipment.

Their progress was slow. They didn't have the codes to get into the elevator or vault yet and _those_ were the real challenges. The vault had a code wheel of a hundred numbers, 0 through 99 and it needed a 4 digit code. There were millions of possible combinations so they were stuck for the moment. They'd ruled out drilling through the vault, because of the seismic sensors hidden inside, the slightest tremor and the alarms would go off.

Kurt was sitting on a chair with a laptop perched on his lap, ticking away at high speed, a headset covering his ears. Blaine wondered what he was doing but didn't question it. He'd never been very good with computers other than figuring how to disable them from the outside.

"I found a way to get the code, I just need a camera placed inside the antechamber from the ceiling. The lights would hide it." Kurt placed his laptop on the stuffed table, getting up from the chair and walking over to his bag. He pulled out a deep red binder filled with papers and pulled one out.

Blaine and the others had found out the hard way, that Kurt was very careful with his stuff and appreciated neatness. When Puck had left soda cans and a pizza box on the living room table and didn't see the point in cleaning it up immediately, leaving his half eaten pizza there for a day, Kurt had become livid. He was very orderly and 'liked a clean living space'. The spat had been brief, with Puck cleaning up the apartment's living room with minimal fuss.

"It's actually a pretty good idea, but how will you get the signal? All forms of transmitting are blocked because of the walls on the vault floor." Mike said, bending over the newly revealed pictures on the table.

"I've got a way to transmit from the vault floor, but I need a connection point from inside the building. I've tried hacking into their surveillance network, but they'd notice if a camera was added to it." Kurt looked up from the pictures, catching Blaine's eyes. "Do you have a way?"

The room was silent for a moment, Blaine searching for an answer.

* * *

><p>"And then, poof! There it was, the perfect way to get both the key and the code without disturbing the door. A transmitter inside a fire-extinguisher, in the room next to the vault connected to a camera not bigger than my fingertip that we stuck to the ceiling." Blaine talked animatedly while Carl sat back with his arms crossed over his chest, listening carefully to the way Blaine explained what they'd done.<p>

"A fire-extinguisher? How'd you manage to plant it inside a _fire-extinguisher?_"

Blaine grinned mischievously and swept his eyes to every camera in the room, finally settling on the security guard at the door.

"That my friend, is something I will keep to myself. A magician can't give out all the tricks of the trade, after all." Carl sighed and clucked his tongue in clear annoyance at the words.

"It would have been interesting to know but alas, whatever the Prince wants."

* * *

><p>The drive back to the apartment was filled with laughter and relief at their breakthrough. This was one of the parts they'd been struggling since the beginning and Blaine was very happy they now had a way to get the code, even if it was going to be a challenge to get the technology installed on the vault floor without being caught. If they managed to do this undetected, they could cross it of the long list of security measures they still had to disable.<p>

The four robbers had fallen into a routine at Blaine's apartment, adjusting to living with other criminals had been surprisingly easy. Or, at least Blaine thought so.

"So, who wants to go out tonight? I found this pretty awesome bar last week in town with Mike. He never wants to pick up chicks because of Tina. So you up for it, Anderson? Join the Puckasaurus on a quest for ladies?"

Blaine saw Kurt trying to hold in his laughter from the backseat and cleared his throat.

"I.. think that's not going to be very effective." He knew he sounded awkward, but Puck didn't seem to take note of it.

"What do you mean not effective? Have you seen these guns?" Puck flexed his arms and Blaine was trying not to laugh now too, silently cursing himself for not telling their other 2 accomplices that he was gay. "The women always fall all over themselves to get with me, I'm sure we can find someone for you too."

Kurt burst out laughing from the backseat, unable to hold it in any longer, while Blaine suppressed his own laughter and indignation. He knew he was attractive enough. It wasn't like he had to fight for attention _or_ affection. Puck looked over his shoulder at the back seat in confusion before seemingly chalking it up to 'Kurt being Kurt', as he'd dubbed it. It was something he'd said to Blaine after the clean living room incident and it had stuck since then. Every time something happened with Kurt being either really angry or showing a 'weird' habit: 'Kurt being Kurt.'

"Not gonna work Puck. Not interested in that kind of thing," Blaine said and mentally applauded himself for keeping his own voice from quivering. Puck snorted.

"Awww, come on Blaine, live a little! I'm sure we can find a pretty blonde chick, or a brunette? What do you like better?"

Kurt's laughter was reaching a crescendo now, bordering on hysterics, and Blaine couldn't keep the grin off his face. This was the first time he'd ever seen Kurt show so much emotion other than anger. They'd flirted in the past few weeks, but Kurt had always seemed closed off somehow. This, Kurt laughing himself silly, made him more approachable. More _human_.

"What the fuck man! Why are you laughing so hard?" Puck starting to grow confused now, never having seen Kurt like this either. Mike just ignored his surroundings, his phone seemingly more interesting than the ongoing conversation in the car. _'Probably texting Tina.'_ Blaine decided to put Puck out of his misery.

"It's not going to work because I'm very, _very_ gay," he spoke slowly and Kurt stopped laughing, taking in big gulps of air to calm his heaving chest. The car was completely silent until the words registered with Puck, who hesitated only briefly before breaking the silence.

"Sorry man, didn't know you were gay. Maybe we can find you a dude, yeah?" Blaine was struggling for what to say as Kurt laughed himself in a stupor once again.

"I decline, Puck. Not really that keen on parties and I might be recognized here if I pick up a guy." The bigger man sighed in annoyance kicking the dashboard.

"Whatever man, more for me."

Blaine kept his mouth shut, even though he grinned helplessly for a moment. Puck didn't even realize what he'd said. Kurt pointed it out in between bouts of laughter.

"You hitting on guys too, Puck?" he asked and Blaine was _really_ struggling now, trying to keep his laughter to a minimum. _'Concentrate on the road, concentrate on the road.'_

"Huh? No way."

"You said 'more for me', as if Blaine was going to take one of the girls when we _just_ established that he's gay. You kind of unwittingly said that you go for guys too."

"Well, no I don't! I'm not gay! Fucking _don't_ take everything I say seriously."

"Believe me, we don't." Mike chimed in, eyes never leaving the tiny screen of his smartphone. "We figured out that you're full of crap in the first week. Still love you man. No homo."

Blaine couldn't hold it in anymore. Clutching the steering wheel, his shoulders shook with the laughter he'd been trying to hold in the last couple of minutes. He relinquished his carefully kept control and heard the others (minus Puck) join in.

Shaking with laughter he drove down the road.

* * *

><p>I will be updating every Wednesday from now on.<p>

R&R and tell me what you think.

Xoxo

Barista


	4. I Am Your Unlikely Hero

_ALL MY FICS WILL BE ON TEMPORARY HIATUS DUE TO SCHOOL TROUBLES. I LOVE YOU GUYS SO MUCH BUT I WON'T BE UPLOADING FOR A WHILE AFTER THIS. _

* * *

><p><em>Blaine's apartment, Antwerp<em>

_6 weeks in._

"…oh but that isn't all! This chick actually had the guts to question my badassness. It was love at first sight man." The four robbers were seated at the small hardwood table Blaine kept in the kitchen. The lights were dimmed slightly, giving the room a warm glow and making their alcohol filled glasses glint.

Blaine took a gulp of his beer, chuckling slightly. "So what happened?" he asked.

"She dumped me. Didn't matter anyways, relationships are not for me."

Puck was telling them about one of the few relationships he'd had, with a girl call Lauren Zizes. She'd been a bouncer at a club and agreed to only let Puck in if he'd make out with her. She'd 'rocked his world', according to Puck, leaving him wanting her more than anything.

"So guys, any past dating experiences I should know about?" Puck asked, giving the others a superior grin. "I know none of you can top me."

"That's what she said," Mike said, taking a sip from his own glass of gold-brown liquid, while Blaine almost choked on his own drink. Kurt looked at him and raised an eyebrow in annoyance. "Sorry man. He's kind of asking for it…" Mike slowly rubbed Blaine's back, trying to get him out of the coughing fit he was having.

"yeah, yeah. Whatever." Puck waved away the comments. He was on his 5th glass by now, ignoring the innuendos and jokes in his drunken haze. "So! Come on! What have you guys tapped?"

"How much do you want to know?" Kurt inquired. "A number? Names? Age? Place?" Blaine's stomach dropped. He should have figured Kurt had numerous lovers in the past. He stole a glance at the man, his eyes lingering on Kurt's index finger trailing over the rim of his glass.

"All of it if possible, all the sordid details. So first up! Blaine, tell us the juicy stories of your love life so far," Puck giggled, holding out his empty beer glass like a microphone under Blaine's nose. Blaine stumbled over what to say, flicking his eyes to Kurt and cursing himself mentally. Luckily, Puck hadn't noticed. He wasn't sure if Kurt had.

"I- I've had a few boyfriends, both in college and in high-school. Not much to tell though," he said finally.

"Come on Anderson! Has to be something exciting…no boyfriends on the side? Cheating? No fun stories about getting caught in a closet somewhere?"

"I got caught giving a 'boyfriend' a hand job in class once," Kurt said casually and all eyes turned to him at once. "_What? _You think I didn't have my share of fun in college? We were kind of frenemies with benefits, I guess." Kurt's eyes turned to Blaine as he knocked back the last of his drink. "Your turn, sexy."

Blaine was starting to wonder if what Kurt was drinking had taken it's toll on the man's system. Kurt seemed sober, but his filter was almost _completely gone_. His eyes were staring intently, daring him to say something. They silently challenging him to

"On the piano in the college choir room, his name was Alan." Blaine breathed out, trying to hide the blush that undoubtly stained his cheeks, both from embarrassment and the alcohol in his veins.

Puck cheered and took a gulp of his beer, "That's what I'm talking about! Tell the Puckasaurus all your sexcapades!" Both Blaine and Kurt looked at him in disgust, while Mike sighed in annoyance and consternation.

"I think the_ Puckasaurus_ has had a little too much to drink," the Asian man said, "I think it's time for him to sleep it off. Do you guys agree?"

"Awwww Mikey, we were just starting to have some fun here," Puck protested, "I bet ya got some interesting stories about your geisha princess fiancé."

"No. Now come on big boy, time for some sleep." Mike dragged Puck away from the table to their bedroom, leaving Blaine and Kurt sitting across from each other at the kitchen table. It was silent for a few seconds, Blaine awkwardly playing with his half empty glass of beer.

"So… a piano huh?" Kurt practically _purred_ and Blaine looked up, hazel meeting blue. Where they even really blue? They looked more grey and green in this light. He let out a nervous laugh and _really?_ Why did he think that sentence was purred? Blaine set down the glass on the table, giving it a glare for good measure. The alcohol was messing with his head but he couldn't keep himself from picking it up again and taking more, the pleasurable haze taking his courage but restoring it with every sip.

"Yeah. A piano. It was _purple_. I was young, a freshman in college…felt like being a rebel I guess," Blaine answered, laughing nervously and Kurt gave him a coy smile, cocking his head to the side. He was clearly amused and Blaine felt even more flustered then before. He wondered why Kurt brought it up again, even if Puck wasn't there anymore. "It helped that I severely disliked the music teacher there, an ancient lady who always nagged me about adding 'vibrato! Mr. Anderson, vibrato'!" he made his voice pitch a little at the slight imitation of the elderly lady and Kurt chuckled. When it died down Blaine smiled painfully, realizing he'd been babbling and took another sip from his glass.

"So, you top or bottom?"

"W-what?" Blaine almost chocked on the cold liquid and stumbled over his own words, taken aback by the blunt question. Jup. Kurt had to be drunk; there was no other explanation for the sudden boldness and blatant disregard of borders and privacy.

"You heard perfectly well _what_ I said," he spoke. "You top or bottom in the fantastic 'purple piano project'?"

Blaine gulped nervously. Should he answer truthfully? Kurt had a dangerous glint in his eyes, one that made Blaine shiver in a pleasant way. What did it matter anyways? He could blame it on the alcohol, the bitter aftertaste of the beer in the morning would be a sufficient excuse.

"Bottom." He sighed out.

"Well, fancy that. Blaine Anderson's a bottom. _Never_ would have guessed." Kurt teased, nursing his drink and smirking at Blaine.

"I-I'm not a bottom, I switch." Blaine added rapidly, voice shaky and his eyes flicking across the room. The confidence that always came easily before seemed to have evaporated as soon as Kurt's eyes traveled over Blaine's body.

"_Sure_." Kurt seemed to be holding in his laughter, biting his bottom lip and his eyes narrowing a bit with silent mirth. Blaine really couldn't figure out if Kurt was sober or not. He looked different tonight. Kurt normally wasn't this…free. He always looked guarded, his eyes flicking to take everything in before taking any kind of action, whether it was stepping into a room or putting on one of his designer coats.

"No really though. I like both." Blaine mentally cheered when his voice remained steady through his confession. He looked at Kurt intently, trying to assess where this conversation was going. He couldn't deny his attraction to Kurt and the man certainly had noticed his traveling glances and barely concealed hitches of breath when Kurt shifted _just so,_ making heat flare in Blaine's stomach. The question was whether Kurt liked him too or was just indulging his own flirtatious moods, keeping him guessing while Blaine admired him from afar, even if the brown haired tease was physically close by. "How about you?"

"Hmm, why the sudden interest?" Kurt leaned over a little, crossing his legs and resting his elbows on the table, his head gracefully cradled in the palm of his right hand. "I wonder you know? About the mysterious Blaine Anderson… with his charming and evasive ways, escaping and leaving broken hearts behind." He looked at Blaine through his lashes and there it was again, the onslaught of fire in his stomach as those pale features almost glowed in the yellow light from the ceiling lamp. "All of which, seem to be somewhat…_ fictional,"_ He drawled lazily, tracing the fingers of his left hand over the skin of his propped up forearm.

Blaine's eyes drank in the sight, as the elegant digits slowly moved up and down the strong arm, the fine hairs almost invisible.

"You fumble and embarrass yourself, talk about private stuff with almost complete strangers and have weird habit of watching me. But even now, I am still fascinated with you," Kurt spoke softly. "You don't only rob banks and vaults, you also rob people around you, stealing your way into their thoughts."

"Is that so?" Blaine whispered, completely enthralled by Kurt's words, only mildly ashamed at the accurate description.

"Yes," Kurt answered, looking thoughtful because of the slight frown on his face. "You don't leave broken hearts behind in your wake, you just steal them."

"I think it's different this time then." Blaine said, not daring to look away from those _eyes_, the ones that kept him prisoner, but happily so.

"Why is that?" Kurt asked, genuine curiosity in his voice.

"Because someone was faster this time and stole mine instead."

The sentence was out faster than his thoughts seemed to process, a hot breath of words filled with a meaning Blaine hadn't really comprehended before. The attraction had been there, yes. So had the lust. He hadn't acknowledged the way his heart beat faster as soon as Kurt walked into the room or the way he'd wanted to be close to him, know everything there was to know about the man. The drinks he'd had made him brazen and seemed to lift the curtains of denial, leaving him only with a slight haze from the alcohol in his blood.

"I mostly top and _that _was a seriously cheesy way of turning my words against me." Kurt smiled and stood up and moved to the counter, putting down his glass on top. Blaine gulped the last of his beer and put his own glass on the counter next to Kurt's. They were standing next to each other, shoulders inches apart with their backs leaning against the counter.

"Well, at least I didn't use a cheesy pick up line to begin with," Blaine said, crossing his arms and squashing any thoughts about Kurt topping and-. "It could have been worse you know."

"How so?" Kurt asked with faked shock and Blaine laughed.

"I could have asked you if it hurt when you fell from heaven or if I could get your phone number because I lost mine," Blaine replied. "Not that that would've worked, as we're living together right now and you seem very keen on messing with me."

"Hmm, pity. I would have liked to see you attempting to use cheesy pick up lines on me. You with your charming, manly wiles." Blaine recoiled a little bit at that. He could be very charming and persuasive if he wanted to be, he just seemed to close down as soon as Kurt's eyes fell on him. It was almost completely out of character for him to be stumbling like this.

'_Man up, Blaine. Two can play this game.' _He commanded himself, _'You can give as good as you get.'_ He pushed his body forward, leaving his leaning position and defiantly stood in front of Kurt. His display of courage paled slightly, as he took in their height difference, but he tried anyways.

"And what _would_ get you charmed and interested? There has to be something that makes you give in. Me trying to pry into your life and getting you to talk with me doesn't seem to do the trick." Blaine's voice lowered a little, a teasing tone taking the place of the simple amusement from before. He inched forward with every word "Or am I just saying the wrong things? Even the ice prince with the funny but sarcastic jokes and curious questions has to have some _buttons _to push."

There was a perceptible change in the air, the yellow light casting shadows on their surroundings and giving their skin a golden glow. Blaine and Kurt were mere inches apart now, the air thick with tension. Blaine was waiting for a reaction, another laugh or _any word_ from Kurt would be enough for him. He lowered his eyes to Kurt's lips, sitting mere inches away from his own. The only sound filling his ears was the beating of his own heart and their combined, soft breathing.

"Do actions speak louder then words, in this case?" he whispered, eyes still trained on Kurt's mouth.

"I think actions are indeed more appropriate for the situation. I give you full permission to steal from me." Kurt replied. His voice was lower than normal and it sent _sparks_ through Blaine's body. He felt Kurt's warm breath over his own lips. "I'm pretty sure I know what you want to steal," His cheeks were lightly flushed and his pupils larger than before, partially masking the greys, blues, greens and gold that Blaine had taken to so amazingly fast. "So what are you waiting for then?"

Blaine smiled and exhaled. He leaned up slightly, slowly brushing his lips over Kurt's for the first time, the tension in his muscles melting away slightly.

He didn't feel sparks or fireworks and hadn't expected to. Instead, he felt his heart beating in a fast erratic rhythm, his cheeks flush, his hands trembling slightly and a deep longing settling in his bones. He concentrated on how warm and moist Kurt's lips were and the hands that had taken residence on his cheeks, keeping him in place as Kurt leaned forward.

'_Wow.'_

Kurt deepened the kiss, dragging his tongue over Blaine's bottom lip and pushing back against him. Blaine put his arms around Kurt's waist and pulled him closer until their chests were flush together. He opened his mouth to Kurt's exploring and let out an embarrassing moan when the man dragged his tongue over the roof of Blaine's mouth.

Stealing a kiss from Kurt, he found, had been one of the best decisions he'd ever made.

* * *

><p><em>OHIO STATE PENITENTIARY, 06:23, September <em>

Blaine sat up in the cot, the lank sheet falling from his body as he adjusted to waking up. He rubbed his eyes in silent remembrance. The memories had been making appearances in his dreams often lately. Every time he'd succumbed to the clutches of sleep, he'd had vivid recollections of the way Kurt had made him feel back then. The ways they'd touched and the kisses that followed after that first one.

Some of dreams were innocent, some were filled with the times they'd fought, sometimes they'd been filled with images of passion and sensations of hands and teeth and skin against skin.

They hadn't started dating after that, quite the opposite. Kurt had ignored Blaine the next day, not acknowledging that anything had happened between them. Thinking back to it now, Blaine almost laughed out loud, the _irony_ of the situation settling in.

He just wished he could tell Kurt he loved him and he would wait forever for him, if that was what it took. He just hoped he wouldn't have to.

* * *

><p><em>Memorial Park Cemetery, Lima, Ohio <em>

A lone figure walked up the gravelly road, a bouquet of white lilies clutched between his fingers. His footsteps crunched on the little stones and broke the silence around him.

It was a nice day today, the sun high in the sky and shining brightly. The man walked with confident strides, knowing exactly were he was going. He passed the gleaming headstones, some decorated with flowers or toys, some barren with just the marble or stone marker that someone was buried there, sitting in the grass.

The path was familiar; it hadn't changed in the years he hadn't been here.

1 row.

2 rows.

3 rows.

The figure came to a stop in front of a simple, not overly decorated white gravestone. His hands trembled slightly as he put the flowers on top of the grave. No one had been there for years and it pained him to see that this stone had become similar to the others around, the ones that didn't have flowers in front of them or were regularly taken care of. The stone wasn't clean, the rain and wind having taken their time in wearing the polished surface.

Rest In Peace

_Elizabeth Hummel (Rogers)_

09-13-20xx

_Burt Hummel_

06-23-20xx

"Hey mom," Kurt cleared his throat a little, the emotions clogging his throat shut. "Hey dad." He sighed. "I'm sorry it took me so long to get back here. I've been pretty busy lately…"

The wind shifted, ruffling the leaves on the big trees surrounding the graveyard.

"I met someone, in Europe. His name is Blaine. You guys would have liked him. He's-" Kurt swallowed heavily, "He's… _held up_ at the moment. You can probably see it from up there." Kurt pointed a finger upward. "I'm sorry that I went down this path; I would have done everything differently if I could. I don't regret becoming what I am today, though."

He looked up at the bright blue sky and smiled a little. There were almost no clouds today, the sun lighting the Cemetery and letting the dew drops in the grass shimmer.

"Meeting Blaine- it was the best thing that happened to me in a long time. It helped that we got away with about 55 million, if you'd combine our 'salaries'." He joked and chuckled brokenly to himself, both at the absurdity of it all and the fact that Blaine had promised they would visit this place together, when they went back to the states. They had never been able to.

Everything had gone to shit after the heist. Evidence had been found that put Blaine at 3 major robberies, including the Diamond Centre one. Kurt had to admit that the heist was ingenious, planned to the little details. A packet of Salami and some papers had ruined Blaine's cover. _A packet of Salami and some _papers_._

He'd hacked into the system of the Belgian Police department and tracked their investigation. Apparently, the packet had stuck to the bottom of the garbage can at Blaine's apartment. The apartment had been on Dalton Phillips' name. He'd been the only customer who failed to call and ask if anything had been stolen. The police had thought it suspicious and asked around. The suspicion grew when they found papers from the Diamond Centre in a cupboard. It had slipped between the boards and hadn't been picked up.

That coupled with the fact that they found the apartment almost completely empty and 'Dalton' had instantly become suspect number 1.

Dalton should have been a dead end, but they traced the lost food back to a local grocery store that, unfortunately, had working video cameras. They'd ID'd Blaine from the combined DNA and facial recognition.

When Kurt had told Blaine about what they'd done and how they'd come to take him soon, Blaine had been startled and fearful before turning thoughtful. He'd smiled sadly at Kurt, saying this could possibly be their only chance.

Blaine's 'treasures' as he liked to call him (Kurt hated the habit, it made him think of Blaine as a pirate, eyepatch and all), were hidden somewhere in the States. This was the perfect way for Blaine to go back there, even if he'd have to spend an undetermined amount of time behind bars.

They had lost themselves in each other and their combined sadness and trepidation after that. It would only be a matter of time before they caught Blaine and if they weren't careful, through him the others.

"I got in contact with a prison specialist- Or prison _escape_ specialist, if you'd want to call it that." He shifted and put his hands in his pockets. "He knows Blaine better then I do, which I thought was impossible. I know you probably wouldn't approve, but I'm going to do this."

The wind caressed his face and he swore it felt like a hand just brushed his cheek. He shook his head and narrowed his eyes determinedly.

"I'll get him back, whatever it takes."


	5. I'll See This Through

I realize I have been gone for a very long time and I apologize. I have cancelled my other story, For Your Entertainment, because I honestly didn't see it going anywhere and I was stuck in a place where I didn't feel I could write it anymore. I _am_ still working on this story. Updates will be irregular, since I have school and exams to deal with, but they _will_ be there. I figured that this story would've gotten way more attention since a lot of time goes into planning it (in contrast to my other fic) but it didn't. I am writing this for my friends and the people who have given me feedback and who love this story.

The last few months have been filled with new fandoms for me. Klaine is not my primary ship anymore and I haven't read multi chapter fics featuring them for at least 2 months now. They are not my OTP anymore, but I will continue this story.

I hope you guys like this chapter and until the next time, happy reading!

* * *

><p><em>OHIO STATE PENITENTIARY, 06:23, 13th of september<em>

Carl calmly walked into the prison building, his fingers loosely gripping the band of his shoulder bag. The guards searched him, like always, and Carl greeted them warmly with a smile and a good morning. They inclined their heads and smiled back. He'd been coming here for weeks now, visiting Blaine. The new guards had been worked in completely, from what Carl gathered, as the guards at the door and the security check hadn't been changed for a few weeks now. He was led to the visiting room, the guard next to him silent and vigilant as he marched Carl towards the meeting point.

It hadn't been that much of a hassle to get the recording device approved by the prison warden when he'd promised a copy of all the audio tapes (tapes, because Carl liked to do it old school, as he'd told the warden) and notes he'd made. A complaint about his hand cramping and forgetting to put things down because it was just so _interesting_, batting his eyelashes at the older man, had been enough to persuade him. After a careful security check of the device (meaning they turned it on and off and checked if there was nothing in the battery compartment, _really_) had allowed him through.

The familiar noise of chatter and excited friends and family meeting their loved ones washed over him. It was a lot less than before, fewer children. He spotted the curly haired head sitting a little way from the bigger sea of orange prison uniforms.

"Good morning Blaine." Blaine blinked and looked up at him, a grin playing at his lips.

"What? No bird quotes this week? I am disappointed in you Mr. Towns. Good morning to you too," Blaine answered teasingly. Carl grinned back and sat down at the other side of the steel table, his hands reaching into his bag to get out the recorder.

He glanced to the guard standing at the door and set the small machine down on the table. He didn't activate it yet. Instead, his eyes met Blaine's and held them for a long moment.

"You were the one who started with the bird quotes, you know," he spoke.

Blaine hummed and looked away. "I know. It just- makes me remember. K-" he abruptly cut himself off. His gaze hardened but looked almost panicked for a second. "Porcelain used to sing for me. His voice was… _haunting_ and so beautiful. It's actually how I fell in love with him. I… He was singing blackbird while doing some dishes. And it just hit me." Blaine paused as a small wistful smile appeared on his face, a softness creeping into his features and Carl's heart clenched painfully.

"It took some time to get to that point, of course, the falling in love part I mean. There was attraction, yes, but love? On a job? Not a good idea right? Right." Blaine's eyes flickered to the recorder and back up with a frown. "You haven't turned it on yet."

"Some things are best left sacred, don't you think?" Carl grabbed the device and his finger hovered over the record button. He looked lost for words for a second before he spoke. "You really miss him."

"Yes. Terribly."

Carl closed his eyes and hummed. He opened them again, putting his thumb on the small plastic dot.

"I bet he misses you too."

Blaine cleared his throat and scratched his neck. "Let's start, shall we?"

"Let's." Carl pushed the button, the red light flickering to life as he set it down on the table.

* * *

><p><em>Blaine's apartment, Antwerp.<em>

_7 weeks in._

Kurt had been ignoring him for a week. Not completely, but enough to be noticeable. The brunet acted just like before in front of Puck and Mike, but outside of the fake vault and the car, he avoided Blaine like the plague. It didn't really sit well with Blaine at all. They were stuck together for the next few months and Blaine didn't know if that was going to work if Kurt was going to be so completely frustrating.

They had kissed. It had set off something in Blaine that he hadn't really felt in a long time. Longing, deep attraction, you name it. Every time Kurt so much as brushed against him it sent teasing shivers down his spine, made his skin erupt in goosebumps, his mind filling with possibilities.

Even now, moving around the table set in the middle of the vault, blue prints and fast food containers (not Kurt's, obviously) littering the surface, Kurt was doing his utmost best to avoid even looking at him.

Blaine _knew_ there was something there. He knew it, could feel it down to his bones. He once again wondered, for the 100th time that week, if it really had been just the alcohol talking. That Kurt hadn't really been attracted to him, or it was just a spur of the moment thing. But then his mind would once again scream at him that _no,_ this wasn't suddenly happening, it had been coming for some time. That _yes_, Kurt was attracted to him and had admitted that to Blaine, even if he deemed it not worthy of any attention now.

Hadn't the kiss been good? Was he a bad kisser? He had it on good account that he was a good kisser, so that couldn't possibly be it. Oh god, that sounded conceited.

Blaine shook his head and turned back to the pages in front of him. They were filled with the safety deposit box numbers and the little info they had on who owned which one. Kurt hadn't been able to hack into the system of the Centre, much to everyone's chagrin. They didn't hate Kurt for it, of course. But the numerous attempts this week left them all in a bad mood. Something had to give.

They had to find out which boxes were owned by the Smythes. The entire heist was planned around them. But how? He chose to leave it for now. They had a long way to go until February and even if it was important, it wasn't their primary concern. It was going to be an extremely risky endeavor. He really hadn't been lying when he'd told Sue he thought it was impossible to crack the vault. It also didn't help that they had him on tape in the Diamond Centre. He'd been a customer for over a year. A fake name and identity could only do so much. He knew some people who could make him disappear from the face of the earth, hide him so completely it would be impossible to _ever _find him. For the right price of course.

Blaine stared blankly at the numbers on the paper. Smythe Corp. had about half of the deposit boxes in the vault in their possession, but it was a question of which half. They couldn't gamble and take a 50/50 chance. They'd all figured it was too time consuming to crack each box individually with a code and key respectively. Drilling them open was going to take a little less time and effort, but they couldn't take the chance of getting just half of the diamonds and the trinkets they'd find in the other vaults.

Puck was going to start scouting out the surrounding area next week, to help them find a loop in the security. They had a rough plan already, but a way in was tricky. Blaine wanted to avoid the lobby and front desk as much as possible, the night guards no doubt sitting there drinking coffee and chatting.

"Blaine." Blaine's head snapped up at Mike's voice. "You're out of it man. You want to help me look for ways to get that camera on the ceiling?" Blaine nodded and turned his attention to Kurt.

"I may have an idea for that, but we're going to need your help for it. We need to find the most inconspicuous way to plant that thing." He pointed at the box with the tiny contact lens like camera, "If the guards so much as think I'm doing something suspicious they'll drag me out and the entire jig will be up. They'd tighten the security and I'd not be able to scout inside anymore."

Kurt didn't meet his eyes as he started to speak. "If we can move the placing of the fire extinguisher up, maybe I can work on a way to get into their system, but it's pretty unlikely. They work on a private network with firewalls out of this _world_. Even trying for a minute to get past it, even from so close, will cause an immediate lockdown. The only way in is from the inside. If we can manage to get me in, I can go from there and loop the footage or record some with the cameras here and paste it over their footage."

Blaine looked thoughtful for a moment. "Can you get in from a computer in their network or if you have access to one?" Kurt nodded slowly in tentative confirmation.

"I could create a program that makes a back door in their security so I can connect to one of their computers from outside of the building. It'll be tricky of course, but possible from the inside. I'd have to be able to put an USB into one of their computers and activate it for it to work at all. I might be able to make something that triggers it on the computer detecting the device. You know, so it'll load automatically." Kurt clucked his tongue and frowned thoughtfully. "Even then, it'll take a fair few weeks to create."

Blaine closed his eyes, humming his breath as he thought about the possibilities. _'Think, Anderson. What's the perfect way to get the USB into a computer without the staff noticing something's wrong…' _he tensed as he found the answer.

"It may be tricky, but can you make it so it's not noticeable on the computer? Like dummy files on it? Photos or something?"

"I- yes. I can do that."

Blaine smirked.

"Then we have a plan." He turned and grinned at Mike, who grinned back.

* * *

><p>"The <em>receptionist<em>? You tricked her?" Carl asked, folding his arms and crossing his legs. The uncomfortable chair he was sitting on shifting slightly with his weight.

"Yes. It hurt my blackened criminal heart," he teased, one of his cuffed hands falling to his chest in mock pain. "Rachel, she was, and probably still is, incredibly naïve. As soon as I said I had a girlfriend and that we'd _love_ to have dinner sometime, that I could bring my camera and take some pictures of her and her fiancé-"

"Pictures?"

"Yes, pictures. Dalton had a photography hobby. So do I in fact. One of the few similarities beside our smooth and elegant ways, but that is neither here nor there." Carl bit his bottom lip to keep from snorting. "It was also the cover to get the USB into the computer."

"You mentioned a girlfriend?"

"I did, didn't I?" He hummed playfully. "What to call her, what to call her. Let's- Let's call her Ferrari. She'd loved that."

Blaine grinned at Carl and got a smile in return.

* * *

><p><em>9 weeks in.<em>

"Nice to meet you, Whitney! I hope you like vegan lasagna!" Rachel dragged her away to the kitchen, leaving Blaine standing in the doorway studying Finn Hudson. He immediately took in the height difference and the man's dopey smile.

"She's very enthusiastic. It's what I love about her, you know?" Finn said and Blaine didn't, in fact, _know_, but he nodded his head anyway, stretching out his hand. "Finn Hudson."

"Dalton Phillips," he answered, grasping the hand in a tight grip. "Nice to finally meet _the_ Finn. Rachel doesn't stop talking about you, you know that? Every time I come into the Centre for business, she mentions you at least once. Alas, none of my flirting worked, so in love is she with you." He sighed dramatically, hoping the lanky man didn't take it the wrong way.

He didn't, thank god. Finn led Blaine to the living room, settling him on the couch and went to check on Rachel and Mercedes in the kitchen.

Kurt had made the program in 2 weeks, demonstrating it proudly on one of his own produced firewalls. It should all work fine, in theory at least. Now it was Blaine's job to plant the seeds so the plant could grow, so to speak. The plan was simple: make pictures of Rachel and Finn (carefully delete any that included Mercedes' or his face), show up at the Centre, say that there's important work stuff on the USB and that he can't leave it with her, but also the pictures from the nice evening they'd had. He'd convince Rachel to plug it in, putting them onto the computer she operated behind her desk, giving the program free reign on the network of computers in the building.

The wait had been filled with planning a backstory. He hadn't wanted to bring a complete stranger into this, preferring familiarity. The problem was that while 'Dalton Phillips' had some female friends in Antwerp, none of them close, they couldn't be dogged into pretending to have been in a relationship with him for the past 2 months. Blaine Anderson didn't really have friends in Antwerp. He had them in other cities, but Antwerp had been too high profile to make connections. Especially now.

Puck had shrugged, Mike hadn't known anyone appropriate either and then Kurt had sighed. Sighed long and deep in exasperation.

He'd grabbed his phone, asked to 'please give him a minute' and walked off towards the kitchen, already dialing a number. Not even 24 hours later, Mercedes Jones had been at his doorstep asking for Kurt. A big, black woman with a sassy attitude had literally _pushed him out of the way_ with a scream of "Boo! I've missed you so much" and forced herself into his apartment.

What he hadn't expected either, was Kurt flying into her arms and screaming right back at her how much he'd missed her too. It had kind of reminded Blaine of those girly comedy movies were the group of best friends would see each other after summer vacation and exchange the latest gossip-

Had they been _gossiping about him_? Oh god. He hadn't even realized that before, he'd been too busy noticing the way Kurt smiled so happily. He hadn't ever seen Kurt that happy in the 7 weeks they'd spent nearly 24/7 together.

A blush flared on his cheeks as Blaine's eyes fell on his shoes. He took a breath to calm himself down. This wasn't the time to think about things like this.

Mercedes had turned out to be a very sunny person who wasn't afraid to speak her mind. She'd wormed her way into the hearts of all of them pretty easily. She was a funny drunk and seemed to bring Kurt out of his shell better than any of them had, however much they'd tried. He'd been more relaxed, didn't seem to mind their habits as much (Puck gleefully ate his pizzas) and seemed all over more content than Blaine had ever seen him.

It brought with it a new layer to Kurt and Blaine realized that there was way more to Kurt Hummel than met the eye. The tight walls he kept around himself kept Blaine out and didn't relent or falter as much around him as it did around Mercedes. He'd felt the sharp sting of jealousy but quelled it as soon as it came. Mercedes and Kurt had known each other for years. The jealousy was also totally uncalled for, as there was nothing but close friendship between the woman and Kurt. That much was obvious, as he was completely sure Kurt was as gay as the 4th of July, with his designer coats and preference of musical theatre and Vogue.

"And then here is our humble living room! The furniture was chosen by yours truly and one of my gay dads, who is an architect. I do say we both have very good taste!" Rachel walked in, Mercedes and Finn following right after. She ushered Mercedes to the couch where Blaine was sitting, while she took a seat on the couch across, Finn soon joining her. "Well, while the lasagna is in the oven, we can have some conversation over wine." Rachel held up a bottle of white wine that Blaine hadn't noticed before. He didn't consider himself _too_ high class, but he still scrunched up his nose in slight distaste when he noticed that it was clearly a cheap bottle.

Finn seemed to be staring at him and Mercedes, probably not sure what to do with himself, as Rachel rattled on about how nice it must be to sing every night and how it was a lost dream of hers to be on Broadway. Mercedes was a successful club singer who was starting to gain popularity in London. They'd integrated it into their backstory, saying 'Dalton' had gone to a club and fell in love with 'Whitney's' voice the moment he heard it.

He'd bought her a drink after the set and the rest, as they say, was (supposedly) history. It wasn't true, of course, but Rachel thought it was fetching and romantic and handed them glasses with the wine sloshing inside. Blaine grabbed Mercedes' hand for effect, smiling a sugar sweet smile at her. Blaine had to applaud Mercedes' acting when she squeezed his hand and gave him a brilliant smile in response.

He really did like her. She was amazingly fun and had livened up the apartment, whether it was whilst making dinner (no one could whip up a dinner as fast as Mercedes Jones, let it be heard.) or singing a tiny part of the Dreamgirls soundtrack when Puck dared her to. The guy called her Aretha. She preened every time the name fell from his lips.

"Dalton, sweetie, don't you think it's about time for that camera of yours? I swear, Rachel, he never leaves that thing alone. He's always snapping pictures of me."

"It's because you're just so gorgeous, I try to capture your beauty, but a picture doesn't ever seem to do you justice, so I just keep taking them." Blaine knew he was laying it on thick, but he was pretty sure Rachel was melting into a puddle on the other couch.

"You're too sweet," Mercedes said, pecking him on the lips playfully. They'd rehearsed that too. Before the whole thievery, Blaine had considered going into performing arts, but the thrill of standing on stage didn't compare to the adrenaline rush he got when he had a big score.

The kissing thing had been kind of hilarious to figure out. When he'd told everyone that he had no problem with kissing women they hadn't believed him. It wasn't like he'd let his freak flag fly as soon as he came out to the group, but apparently they hadn't expected him to give in so easily. Kurt had looked kind of betrayed even and it had squeezed at Blaine's chest seeing that unhappy expression on the man's face, but also made him feel incredibly angry.

Kurt's hot and cold thing was frustrating to no end.

He got up and grabbed the bag he'd left at the side of the couch, slowly taking out the expensive camera before sitting down again. Finn was looking at him in intense interest and Blaine focused on the camera, cold sweat on the back of his neck.

Finn was obviously a military man, the way he stood to attention, the way he carried himself and sat down, his hair and clothes, it all screamed soldier. Blaine didn't like people like that. He'd met soldiers like Finn before. They were dumb, but they'd kick your ass if you angered them.

"It has been too long since we took pictures together Finn! Blaine, would you mind snapping some of us? If it's no trouble, of course-" Rachel was bouncing up and down in her seated position, her hands clinging to Finn's arm in clear and somewhat childish enthusiasm.

"No problem at all, I'll gladly do it! You're a wonderful couple, don't you agree, Whitney?"

"Yes, especially the height difference is cute. You fit together in a special way." Rachel preened under the praise and seemed to cut of the circulation in Finn's arm, making him squirm uncomfortably.

"Well! Let's snap some pictures then, shall we?"

* * *

><p>"So we took the pictures, had lasagna that was absolutely horrifying-" Carl laughed. "Yeah you're laughing now, but if you'd seen that <em>monstrosity.<em> God. Never am I eating vegan food again, no matter how well it's been made."

"So they didn't suspect a thing?" Carl asked between chuckles.

"No," Blaine answered, "They didn't suspect a thing. It was like taking candy from a baby, They fell for it hook, line and sinker. Ferrari was perfect though. She was the one who was the most convincing. She managed to get Rachel completely enraptured in our 'story', while I distracted Finn with talk about football and boxing.

"The dinner went relatively well and I noticed that I was certainly not the only one who looked a little green eating that lasagna. After that Ferrari and I met up the others to get a drink. We hadn't won yet, but it seemed like it was time for _some_ kind of celebration."

"And the Porcelain thing? I can see you were completely hung up over him."

"I was. He was pushing all my buttons. It came to a stop though, the tension and the weird behavior. Finally."

* * *

><p>Blaine didn't remember the name of the bar they were at. It seemed any romantic encounter seemed to involve alcohol. He'd been approached by a number of drunk girls and guys, asking for his number in French or in Belgian. When he'd explained he was American they seemed even more eager to get to know him (Either in a romantic or sexual way).<p>

He charmed his way out of these situations relatively easily and turned back to the drink he was nursing. He was pleasantly buzzed and he heard Kurt and Mercedes laughing loudly 3 seats over.

He turned back to Puck and Mike, who were seemingly competing in who could drink the most drinks and remain sober. They'd appointed Blaine judge, as he'd begged off on getting too much to drink tonight. The last time he'd gotten drunk in their company, had caused a lot of tension and confusion that he really wanted to avoid this time. He felt a bit like the odd man out.

He jumped when he felt hands on his shoulders and a 'BOO!' in his right ear. Mercedes had apparently paused her conversation with Kurt to walk over and scare him.

"Wow! You're a jumpy guy Blaine. You wanna sit with us? You seem kind of bored." Blaine chanced a quick look at Kurt, who was staring at him intently, as if he was daring him to accept Mercedes' offer.

"I'm not sure I should do that Mercedes. I think Kurt kind of dislikes me or something."

"Dislikes you? Boo, what are you talking about? He can't stop talking about you! My baby obviously wants you so get over there and get some, before I kill the both of you, you idiot!" Blaine looked at her, wide eyed at her exclamation.

"Mercedes," he began, "He's been avoiding me since we kissed. It's not like I didn't try to get with him before and I'm pretty sure he rejected me when he ignored me for 3 weeks."

Mercedes looked torn between blurting out something and keeping quiet and walking away, a pinched and irritated look on her face.

"I- Look. I'll come with you okay? But don't expect anything grand to happen." Before Blaine could sit up from his bar stool, Mercedes pushed him back down and stared into his eyes for a long moment, completely serious.

"You need to know that Kurt has trouble letting people in. You have to get past his walls," She said.

Blaine scoffed. "Why should I even _try?_ It's not like this is going to last past the job. We'll go our separate ways in a few months." He didn't care that he sounded bitter.

Mercedes gave him a skeptical look. "You _really _think that? Tell me, Blaine, what do you _want_ with your life past this?"

Blaine looked away, the images of Kurt and him on a Mediterranean island sipping cocktails and dancing on the beach, enjoying the luxury of each other and making love in the sand- '_Fuck no nonono'._ Kurt hacking into the security of the metropolitan art museum and the both of them stealing it's contents together. Living for the thrill, _together._ Blaine with a little kid in his lap, with the same blue eyes as Kurt, but a messy mop of dark curls on his head, and Blaine realized that it was _way_ too fast to be thinking about anything like this, but the images still came. He clenched his teeth. Why was he so _obsessed?_

"You obviously like him. So _try harder._ You only find someone like Kurt once in a lifetime, no matter what life you choose to live. Don't waste that chance because you think it won't last," Mercedes spoke, grabbing his hand and dragging him from the barstool.

Blaine stumbled over, straightening his back and schooling his features. Kurt looked just as gorgeous as he always did, his soft brown hair swept up in its usual style, his designer clothes clinging to him in all the right places.

"Boo, I think it's time you and Blaine here talked about what happened a few weeks ago and for you to stop acting like you don't want a piece of his ass." When Kurt opened his mouth in indignation and shock but Mercedes shushed him before he even uttered a word. "Look, you think you can fool everyone, but I've been your best friend for _years_. I know when you like someone and try to hide it ok? Now order another drink and _talk_ while I go visit the cute white boy that's been checking me out for the past half hour."

She motioned to a blond haired man sitting together with some other guys. They were obviously egging him on to go say something to Mercedes and she blew Kurt and Blaine a kiss before flouncing off.

They gaped after her before turning to each other, not knowing what to say. Mercedes was nothing if not persistent.

"Okay, I don't know what she said to you, but please leave it alone. Mercedes always wants to get her way in things like this. She dragged me to church once when my dad-" Kurt swallowed heavily. Blaine could feel his own throat go dry as Kurt babbled. "When my dad was in the hospital. Mercedes wanted everyone to pray to god for my dad, but I didn't believe in someone who doesn't exist. But yeah. She dragged me over, me with my big feathery flamboyant hat in a church filled with singing people. It was insane."

Blaine sat down on the stool Mercedes had vacated, ordering himself a new drink. "My parents are very religious. Always dragged me to church on Sunday and used to quote the bible. Have us pray to god for our dinner and before we went to sleep. It was horrible. I was actually glad I went to live with my brother. He'd always spat on their over enthusiasm and obsession with Christianity."

"Yeah well. Just don't acknowledge her schemes and they'll probably go away."

"I don't want them to," Blaine bit out in frustration.

Kurt's head snapped up and his eyes narrowed. "What did she say?" It was more an order to tell him than a question.

"She told me, indirectly, that I'm not fooling myself thinking there's something going on between us, even if you try to ignore it like it's not there. She told me that there _is_ something there, that we better fess up and uhm- 'get some'. Her words, not mine."

Kurt sighed. "I should have never told her you kissed me. It would've spared us something like this."

Blaine winced and looked away from him, letting his eyes follow the servers behind the counter. "Is spending time with me such a chore? Do you really not like me at all? This conversation was long coming. You avoided and ignored me for _weeks_. Also, you were baiting me so much, how could I _not_ kiss you?"

Kurt flinched and took a sip from his drink, looking away and frowning. "It's not that- Look can't we just forget it ever happened? I don't want to complicate anything here."

Blaine closed his eyes and swallowed harshly, the words stabbing at him in a painful way. "You could have just said that you didn't like me or say you don't want a relationship. Damn it Kurt, you could have said _anything_. Maybe I wouldn't have been pleased but I would have _understood_. You don't owe me anything, I know that, but you could have fucking said _something_ instead of ignoring me."

"I'm _sorry_. I should have said something and I'm _sorry_. I do like you. Believe me, I do. But in a few months this will be over and just think about what will happen then. I'm not looking for a fling Blaine. I've had my fair share of those. I'd rather just leave this alone and not think about it, have it distract me from my goal-_our _goal. I know I was wrong in ignoring you, and I knew you were attracted to me and thought, _why the hell not?_ But I realized that this-" he pointed from himself to Blaine."-Would never last."

"And why exactly, shouldn't it last after this? Frankly, I don't see how you can just assume that I wouldn't want a serious relationship with you." Blaine tried to remain calm, and not scream his lungs out in frustration at the man in front of him. Yelling would get him absolutely nowhere. "Can't you just give us a chance? I've tried getting behind those incredibly high walls you put up, but you keep blocking me at every single turn. One moment I think you are accepting my advances, the next you seem as cold as a goddamn iceberg."

Kurt remained silent, lost for words as he gaped at Blaine.

"What? You think I wouldn't want a relationship with you? Haven't you freaking noticed that every time you step into a room, I forget to breathe? That every time you speak, my hands start to shake? That every time you let your walls down, however rare that is, I just can't help but smile because you look so fucking beautiful when you let loose and unwind? How _jealous_ I've been of the relationship you share with Mercedes, even if I know you've known her for _years_? Damn it Kurt we've been dancing around each other for weeks, _open your eyes_!" Blaine grabbed a 20-euro bill from his pocket and dropped it on the bar, before quickly walking out the door. He needed air.

He stepped out into the cold autumn air, breathing deeply and trying to ignore the tears prickling at the corners of his eyes. He wouldn't cry about something so fucking _childish. _He hadn't even been in a relationship with Kurt in the first place and here he was, trying not to cry over something that hadn't even _happened._ One kiss had been enough to completely pull him out of his rhythm. It was unhealthy. It would stop now.

He jumped when he heard the door of the bar open behind him, but didn't turn around when he heard the footsteps approaching. His hands were balled at his sides into fists as he stared at the dark sky above him. He didn't move when he felt fingers gently touch his white knuckles, brushing them and circling them. His heart was beating way too fast as he relaxed the fist, feeling the fingers sliding between his as he clenched his eyes shut.

"I didn't know I was hurting you like this." The words were shaky, but Blaine let out a sigh anyways. "I am so sorry. _So sorry."_ They were even shakier now and Blaine opened his eyes, still staring into the distance, white puffs of air leaving his mouth as he breathed. The fingers between his were a welcome pressure. "I've been incredibly selfish in this, projecting my experiences on you while I shouldn't have. I don't have any excuses, and I'd understand if you'd treat me like shit for the rest of the job, since I deserve it for-"

"Shut up." Blaine turned around and looked straight into Kurt's eyes. The ones that had been subject to so many thought that Blaine had lost count. "Shut up," he whispered. Kurt's mouth snapped closed, and for the first time Blaine noticed the pure anguish on the face he'd stared at for hours before.

He didn't know who leaned in first, but Kurt's lips were on his in the next second, desperately kissing him. Blaine was holding him as close as he could. He'd crawl inside if he could, the warmth and hands everywhere, arms around him and messing up his hair. He didn't ever want to leave this embrace, to ever put a stop to this. It wasn't just physical, it wasn't _just_ that. Blaine couldn't call it love yet, but he could call it hope. The feeling welling in his chest, wanting to burst out and fill the air. The feeling that made him want to smile and cry and just _be._ The hope of not being alone, to have someone to share with.

Because if there was one thing that Blaine never wanted to admit, is that he didn't want to be _alone_ anymore.

Blaine broke the kiss and panted harshly against Kurt's mouth. He noticed his hands had clenched into Kurt's shirt, causing creases, but Kurt didn't seem to mind.

"We're so emotionally constipated, aren't we?" Kurt spoke and Blaine couldn't help but laugh, letting his forehead fall against Kurt's shoulder. Desperation and want were still clawing inside of him and if Kurt asked him to let go, he wasn't sure he'd be able to.

"Go out with me." Blaine's voice was slightly muffled, but he could feel Kurt's shoulders sag. He felt the sigh against his neck and the arms around him loosening slightly. Blaine's heart rate picked up again, preparing himself for the potential rejection as he pulled back slowly.

"Okay," Kurt said and Blaine could feel the tension in his own muscles instantly let go. This man had way too much power over him.

"Okay?" Blaine asked, and damn him for sounding so hopeful and clingy.

"Yes." And then they're kissing again. Blaine feels warm and for the first time in weeks, like he has some control over his life back.

* * *

><p>"We started dating after that. Things were still rocky, but we pulled through." Blaine looked wistful for a minute, a small smile playing at his mouth. The people around them prattled on as Blaine and Carl remained silent. Carl's face was unreadable as he stares at Blaine.<p>

When Blaine blinks and frowns, Carl snaps out of whatever funk he'd been in and clears his throat.

"That truly is quite a story," Carl mutters. "Perhaps the next few interviews should remain a little bit more-"

"About the heist? I understand." Carl looked grateful and smiled a little. "I'm sure that the people reading the Chicago tribune wouldn't want this to turn into a sappy love story." Blaine grinned and Carl grinned back.

"I'll be sure to warn the editor what a sap you are then, Mr. Anderson. It truly is an incredible story though. I can't wait to write it all up, leaving out some personal details of course."

"Of course."

One of the guards motioned for Carl and he stood up with a small nod. "It's been a pleasure talking to you again, Blaine. I'll see you next week," he said extending his hand.

Blaine grasped it tightly and shook it.

"I'll be looking forward to it."

With a smile, Carl walked out of the room, the guard returning to his former post at the door after he'd walked the journalist out.

No one noticed Blaine quickly stuffing the recording device into the pocket of his orange prison uniform pants.


End file.
